


Rare Gifts

by afteriwake



Series: Unexpected Legacies [10]
Category: Arthurian Mythology, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anthea is the Best PA, Awesome Molly, Awesome Molly Hooper, BAMF John, Case Fic, English Villages, Established Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, Gen, Grim Reapers, Haunted Woods, Holmes Brothers, Hurt John Watson, Kind Molly, Loving Molly, Magical Sherlock, Married Anthea/Mycroft Holmes, Minor Anthea/Mycroft Holmes, Misunderstood Monsters, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Mycroft Holmes Has Feelings, Mycroft IS the British Government, Mycroft is a Bit Not Good, POV Sherlock Holmes, Pretend marriage, Sherlock Has A Nightmare, Sherlock Has a Plan, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Friendship, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Holmes Has a Heart, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good, Sherlock is a Good Boyfriend, Sherlock-centric, Smart John, Smart Molly, Smart Sherlock, Spiders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-10 19:54:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 22,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7858990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft is sent to Hampshire for a meeting that he has an ulterior motive for going to: there has been talk of strange goings ons in the nearby village of Farnham, Surrey, and a high ranking government official has disappeared. He tasks his brother to find out just what is going on, which leads to the discovery of a long lost colony of an ancient race who are normally peaceful but are being manipulated by an unscrupulous businessman with plans for taking what he believes to be rightfully his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> By [twisted_slinky](http://twisted-slinky.livejournal.com/) | [LJ Post](http://wipbigbang.livejournal.com/114095.html)
> 
> So I am _finally_ getting back to this series. For some reason, I had stuck this fic in my folder for AU Day of Molly Hooper Appreciation Week but then I realized "No, it's totally a Sherlock POV thing" but I was seized by a sudden urge to start writing it. As are all the fics in this series, it's inspired by a piece of art that was used in the 2015 round of the Spook Me Ficathon, and in this case it's [this gorgeous illustration](https://s13.postimg.org/d4gl3xgef/007_traditional_illustrations_francesca_baerald.jpg) by [Francesca Baerald](https://francescabaerald.carbonmade.com/), as well as a piece from the 2016 round ([Coldhands](https://s22.postimg.org/u169kuvip/Grim_Reaper_2.jpg) by Zippo514).

“And just why do you want me to accompany you to Hampshire?” Sherlock asked, continuing to run his bow lightly across the strings of is violin as he stood at the window overlooking the street. He had not wanted to see his brother, not really, but his brother had shoved his way into Baker Street as he always did and demanded his meeting with his baby brother. Very well then. Sherlock would give him the meeting, but he would not deign to give him all of his attention.

“There are...other matters...going on in Hampshire. The kind that you deal with,” he said, his voice taking on an edge of distastefulness.

Sherlock abruptly hit an odd note on his violin. In all the time since he had left the facility where he had been being kept to be observed, Mycroft had not mentioned the supernatural abilities Sherlock had gained. He had not mentioned the company he was keeping in regards to Merlin, though he knew Mycroft knew of their ancestor and probably had eavesdropped on the conversations the two of them had had in Baker Street. By now he had to know the truth that they had discovered that Molly was a descendant of Morgan le Fey and could do magic of her own, and he had not commented on that, either. For him to even acknowledge it was a huge step. Sherlock slowly turned to face his brother and then moved to the chair of his opposite where Mycroft was sitting, setting his violin and bow on the table and facing his brother. “I’m listening,” he said.

“There was a high ranking government official sent to Farnham, Surrey to get the lay of the land before a secret meeting that was to take place there about construction in one of the forests there,” Mycroft said, reaching for his briefcase and pulling out a file before handing it to his brother. “He has disappeared. His PA said he was acting strangely before he disappeared, and that there were, and I quote, ‘strange goings ons in the village.’ She said the forest was incredibly spooky and she got chills every time she set foot near a certain part of it. She has since returned to London. You may wish to speak with her. Her details are in there.”

“How does this concern you?” Sherlock asked, beginning to flip through the file.

“I have been tasked to take the official’s place in the meeting. Anthea and I will be leaving shortly for the village. I want you there as quickly as possible, you and whoever you feel you need to bring along with you.”

“Can you arrange to get Molly the needed time off?” he asked.

“I can,” Mycroft said. He pursed his lips slightly. “Why is she so important to you? Attachments are...complicated.”

“Ours even moreso, but it goes beyond what happened in Eynsford when I gave some of my life energy to save her life. In fact, I have done so twice,” he said. “I’m sure because you have this flat bugged you know we are ancestors of Merlin and she is an ancestor of Morgan le Fey?”

He nodded. “Yes,” he said.

“That means our fates have always been interconnected, according to Merlin. In fact, he thinks we were destined to meet. If it had not been the way it was, with me as a consulting detective and her as a resident pathologist at Barts, it would have been some other way. The romantic relationship may not have been predicted or destined, but we are not the first of the descendent lines to cross each others paths.”

“Did the other occasions end well?” Mycroft asked.

“Not usually,” Sherlock conceded. “But that is because most of her descendants had gone mad because they discovered their magical talent at a young age and had no one to guide them. Molly is unusual in that she did not discover hers until her thirties and she has Merlin training her as he is training me. We have hope our interactions will be different.”

“I pray they will be as well,” Mycroft said, standing up. “There has been enough misery in our family line. We don’t need a vengeful ex-lover who knows magic added to it.”

“You forget,” Sherlock said, his teeth set slightly on edge. “I’m immortal. She’s not.”

“That is true,” Mycroft said with a nod. “Good day, brother mine.” With that, he turned and left the flat.

Sherlock glared after his brother and then looked at the file. He knew he should work on the case but his brother had irritated him and he wanted to soothe his irritation. He set the file aside and then went for his mobile, dialing Molly’s number from memory, hoping she was able to answer. It rang three times but then she picked up. “Sherlock! I was just thinking about you. I was wondering if you’d like to join me for lunch in a bit.”

He felt himself relax at the sound of her voice and her invitation to a date. “I would enjoy that very much, especially after the visitor I just had,” he said, standing up and beginning to pace.

“You brother?” she asked.

“That obvious?”

“Well, there are very few people who put you on edge like he does,” she replied. “But I think a Mediterranean lunch with your girlfriend might soothe your troubled soul, maybe?”

He felt a warmth inside him at her calling herself his girlfriend. He wasn’t one for labels but it was nice to hear her use them. “I think it would,” he said. “And then I can go over the case he’s given us that might necessitate a small sabbatical for you.”

“Another trip away?” she said. “Not to another manor house, I hope.”

“No, to Farnham, Surrey. We’re to investigate the village and in particular a patch of forest that doesn’t feel quite right, as well as the disappearance of a high-ranking politician.”

“Sounds interesting,” she said. “Why don’t you meet me at Barts in forty minutes and then you can tell me all about it over lunch? I’ll even make it my treat today.”

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Bye,” she said before hanging up. He felt considerably lighter after the phone call and marveled at that for a moment before going back to the file and beginning to read. After all, the more details he knew the better he could explain it all to Molly and anyone else he chose to involve in this case.


	2. Chapter 2

He felt his spirits lift when he saw Molly forty minutes later. She was wearing a white blouse with a cheery yellow sunflower print and khaki trousers, and she had her spectacles on that she sometimes wore when she had to do fine detail work. He had to admit, he quite liked the spectacles on her and wished she would wear them more often. The wide smile on her face when she saw him only made her look more lovely, it seemed. “Hello,” she said, coming up to him and giving him a soft kiss.

He returned the kiss, pulling her against him, and then pulled away from the kiss but still kept her close. “I am quite glad to see you,” he said.

“I can tell,” she said, playing with the collar of his Belstaff for a moment. “My sabbatical seems to have begun immediately, so lunch can be as long as we want it to be.”

“My brother does have quite the pull,” he said, a bit sourly.

“But it does have its benefits,” she said. “I’m assuming there are things we need to do before we go wherever it is we need to go?”

“Yes,” he said. “The personal assistant of the politician whose disappearance we need to investigate has returned to London, and it was highly suggested that we talk to her before we depart. She may have information pertinent to our inquiries.” He looked over at her. “I thought we could go over what I know while we eat and then pay her a visit.”

Molly nodded. “That sounds fine,” she said. She didn’t move to gather her things and instead kissed him again, and he found himself grinning against her lips as he kissed her back. Things had been rather hectic as of late with his side business of taking on paranormal cases, and while she had helped from time to time they had not seen as much of each other as he would have liked. A chance to be together for the duration of this case away from London was welcome, even if it was all because of his brother, and it appeared she felt much the same way. A chance to reconnect was not to be taken lightly. Or, perhaps, this was a way for them to reconnect in a...different...way.

It was not as though their relationship had not been heading towards something more intimate. Her home had been fully warded for a few weeks now and she still preferred staying at Baker Street most evening, sharing his bed with him. When she was not there, he was with her at her home. They were rarely asleep apart, and even then it was only because of circumstances beyond their control for the most part. He had the feeling things would change, and this trip away might be the catalyst.

Before he could pull away from her, though, an image flashed in his mind. It was a vision, he knew. He saw a hooded figure sitting astride a massive stag, a ball of blue flame in its hand, and he felt a cold blade of fear run down his spine. He tore himself away from Molly but as soon as he looked at her he saw that she, too, had shared some part of his vision. “Did you see it?” he asked.

“No, but I felt your fear,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself. “What happened?”

“I think,” he said slowly, “I had a premonition of Death itself.”

Her eyes widened. “Death? As in…the Grim Reaper?”

He nodded. “I think we need to be very careful with this case,” he said, moving forward to run his hands up and down her arms. “There may be far more for us to lose than I think we had estimated.” She nodded slowly and then stepped closer and embraced him. He held her close, resting his chin on the top of her head. He had come close to losing her before and he would be damned if he did so again, nor would he lose anyone else if he could help it. But the premonition of Death itself was very unsettling, and he could still feel the icy shock of fear in his veins as he tried to let the warmth of Molly’s embrace seep into them instead.

Somehow, this had all taken on much more importance then he had the feeling even Mycroft realized...and perhaps that meant they needed help beyond what Mycroft had specified. Hopefully, it was available to him.


	3. Chapter 3

The PA’s name was Juliet. Mycroft had declined to give her real name, and for the moment, that was fine. They met in public, at a cafe that was not far from the government building where Mycroft kept his official offices, but he could tell she did not feel safe there. But it was not something in the great wide open that should have her feeling afraid; whatever had happened in the forest had left its mark on her, and it was a glaring neon sign that he could clearly see even twenty feet away from the cafe.

“You see her through the window, don’t you?” Molly said as they jaywalked across the street.

He nodded. “We need to convince her we’re friendly and get her to Mycroft’s office immediately.”

Molly gave him a confused look. “Is it safe there?”

Merlin assured me that when he found out we were his descendants he warded our homes and our main place of businesses. Mycroft’s office, Barts and New Scotland Yard are among three of the most warded workplaces in all of London. I don’t worry about any of you while you’re there for the most part.”

“Good to know,” she said as she hurried the last few feet across the street. She got to the door of the cafe first and opened it, and a bell jangled. Juliet looked like her heart was going to leap out of her chest. “Go order us some coffee.”

“What?” Sherlock said, surprised. 

“You’ve grown as time has gone by but she’s scared out of her wits. Let me talk to her first. You know how I like my coffee. Get me some.” She nodded to the counter and then made her way towards Juliet, radiating...something. Warmth. Comfort. Security. _Merlin must be giving her different lessons than he gives me,_ he thought to himself. He went to the counter and ordered two coffees, a mocha cappuccino with a shot of hazelnut flavour and two shots of espresso for Molly and a black coffee with two sugars for himself.

It was then he noticed the spider in the corner. It was dangling from the web it had woven there, but there was a magical shield over it. It wasn’t meant to be seen. It was meant to observe without notice. The web was intricate, far more intricate than any garden variety spider he had seen in London before.

Interesting.

He got their coffees when they were done and went to Molly and the woman, leaning close to Molly when he set hers down in front of her. “We’re being watched,” he murmured. “Left corner by the counter. The spider in the web.” Molly picked up her coffee as he moved away to take a seat, glancing at the spider, and nearly spit out her drink. “What is it?” he asked, alarmed.

“That isn’t a normal spider,” she hissed quietly. “It’s got a human torso.”

Sherlock looked again but he couldn’t see that kind of detail, just the intricate web. “We need to leave. Now,” he said, standing up and taking Juliet by the hand. She gave him a wide-eyed look. “Alley?”

“Next to the building,” Molly said, leaving her coffee on the table as she stood. “Teleport?”

Sherlock nodded. “Faster and safer.” He guided Juliet to the door, almost pulling her, and then outside and to the side of the building, only stopping when he saw a line of black spiders come out from the shadows. “Not a good idea.”

“What else can you do?” Molly asked.

“Most people know I’m different. I survived the fall from Barts. Another public spectacle won’t hurt,” he said, grabbing Molly’s hand and casting the teleportation spell. In a flash, they were in Mycroft’s office, and Sherlock did a quick scan to check them all, quickly brushing a spider off one of Juliet’s pumps. He cast a freezing spell to make it stay in place and then looked around. “I need something to trap it in.”

“Your brother is far too meticulous for his own good,” Molly said, looking around as Juliet’s eyes rolled into the back of her head and she fainted. Sherlock caught her easily and then set her in one of Mycroft’s chairs, not caring if she was particularly comfortable because he was half concentrating on the spell. “A-ha!”

“A salad dressing container?” Sherlock asked as Molly triumphantly lifted a plastic container with a sealable top from his rubbish bin. “He must have been in a hurry in Andrea didn’t empty the bin before they left.” He took the container and opened it, ignoring the smell of blueberry vinaigrette, and trapped the spider in it. Once the spider was inside he released the spell and the spider began to move again, furious at being trapped.

“What do we do now?” Molly asked, looking at Juliet.

“I think this is much more than we can handle alone,” Sherlock said, not taking his eyes off the spider. “I think we need Merlin’s help.”

“Where is he?”

“That, it seems, is the question,” Sherlock said. “He said he needed to delve into studies of an ancient text for more information on my more first vision. He needs to be made aware of this latest one as well, the one of Death on the stag, and we need him to figure out why there are spiders involved in all this.”

“And Juliet?”

Finally, he tore his eyes away. “If I knew where my brother kept smelling salts I’d fetch them, but I suppose we’ll have to wait and see what happens first: Merlin eavesdropping on our conversation or her coming to. In the meantime,” he said, “I believe I owe you lunch and if we order from _this_ phone we can put it on Her Majesty’s tab.”

Molly smiled at that. “Well, it’s a small balm for the inconvenience,” she said, reaching for the phone. “Everything from haz St Paul?”

“Make it double,” he said, sinking to the floor and crossing his legs as he continued to study the spider. It appeared there was a new player in this, or perhaps _the_ player, and one should always acquaint themselves with their enemy. And it was not as if he didn’t have time to kill. So studying the spider it would be.


	4. Chapter 4

He was still attempting to communicate with the human-spider creature when Juliet came too. Needless to say, she was completely terrified now, but Molly began to radiate the same sense of warmth and reassurance she had at the cafe and Juliet began to calm down again. When she realized they were back in the government offices that helped, especially when Molly explained that so long as she stayed in this particular office she would be safe. Being in more familiar surroundings seemed to be more of a comfort than being in a public place, apparently. 

When Juliet was calmer Molly shared with her some of the food they had ordered. He had questioned her once about the particular lessons she had been receiving and he had found she had taken to the books and manuscripts that Merlin had far more easily than he had. Where his skills came more from creating magic on the fly hers came from learning the old ways and building upon it. He had the feeling perhaps it was best they didn’t work the same way because it would make them a more effective team. But in this particular instance, she had noted one of the skills she had learned was to be able to sense most magical poisons or spells with ill intentions. It was a neat spell she’d learned that Merlin had scribbled in the margins of a tome and she taught it to him when their food had arrived, to make sure no one was going to cause Juliet any more harm today. It was one he knew he was going to use often.

“Is it talking?” Molly asked as she drifted over towards him.

Sherlock shook his head. He glanced over and saw Juliet was dozing; the stresses of the experiences in the wood compounded with today’s experiences had worn her out and she was stretched out in Mycroft’s chair. Getting answers from her would have to wait until she was more alert. And he was having no luck getting anything from the creature; no matter what language he spoke to it in, all he got in response was a stony glare and a resolute silence. “It doesn’t seem to want to have anything to do with me.”

“It _is_ a prisoner covered in blueberry vinaigrette,” Molly said with a faint smile. “Have you tried reaching out to Merlin again?”

“Yes,” Sherlock said. “He’s either ignoring me or too busy to be bothered.”

“Well, I was able to talk to Juliet a bit while you were trying to interrogate our prisoner,” she said, sitting next to him and looking down at the clear top of the dressing container. “The spider, or something similar, was involved. There is something in the village that controls the spiders, and they spy on everyone. And there is a nest in the forest for something. She got a glimpse of it but was bitten and blacked out, and when she came to she was on the edge of the forest and her boss was nowhere to be seen. The villagers were no help and said if he’d gone in the forest that deeply he’d never be seen again.”

Sherlock nodded and then turned to the spider in the container. “So, the bites cause loss of consciousness, there is something in the forest with a nest, there is also something, or the same thing perhaps, capable of moving a grown woman throughout the trees and undergrowth, and the villagers doom anyone who ventures in too deeply.” He narrowed his gaze. “You’re going to be a nuisance, aren’t you?”

“Like it and its mates weren’t already,” Molly said. “I lost a perfectly good coffee and I barely got any sleep.”

“My fault?” Sherlock asked, turning to face her.

She shook her head. “Just...restlessness.”

He set the spider creature on the table in front of him. “Perhaps it’s your version of premonitions,” he said. “Not visions, just feelings. Our powers are different enough but similar.”

“Perhaps,” she said. “Or perhaps I am picking up things from you, ever since your first vision.”

He put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, pressing a kiss into her hair. “My apologies. If I thought sleep would be easier I would suggest separate beds.”

“No!” she said, jerking away from him. “No, absolutely not! I like sleeping next to you.”

“Even if nothing happens?” he asked.

She nodded. “I’m in no rush, Sherlock, honestly. When it happens, _if_ it happens, then wonderful. But our relationship doesn’t need to revolve around shagging to be good. We’re already good.” She leaned in and pressed her forehead against his. “If all I ever get are kisses I will cherish each and every one and give you as many as you want in return.”

He nodded just slightly against her forehead and reached for her hand, holding it. He had never really considered how lucky he was in all of this, to be honest. After her near death and its aftereffects, she could have pushed him away, but she never held it against him. She never blamed him, even though he blamed himself. And she let things go at the pace he set, which he was forever grateful for. He could not ask for anything more.

“You know, I hate to intrude on moments like this, but...you called?”

Sherlock and Molly pulled apart and turned to see Merlin sitting in the chair across from Juliet, turned so he was facing them. “Oh, you took your sweet time,” Sherlock said, getting up. “We have problems.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Merlin said as Sherlock picked up the dressing container and brought it to Merlin, Molly following him. His eyes widened as he looked down through the clear lid. “Bloody hell. I thought they were extinct.”

“What _are_ they?” Molly asked.

“Think of them as the next evolution of arachnids,” Merlin said, taking the container from Sherlock. “They are descendants of the weaver Arachne, in Greece. She, obviously, was turned into a full spider in Greek mythology, but that’s not _actually_ what happened. She was turned into a human/spider hybrid: a woman on top, a spider on the bottom. And also _much_ larger than your average spider. She was cast out, left to roam the lands, but she got converts, those who felt she was wronged by Athena, that her punishment was undeserved. Eventually, she was able to acquire magical powers and convert some of her disciples, and the power was passed along through the ages.”

“But I’m assuming something happened,” Sherlock said.

Merlin nodded. “The clan settled in England, long after Arachne’s death. And over the years they had begun to get rather...territorial, and woe betide you if you invaded their territory. They were vicious. So Arthur had them dealt with, sending the Knights out to...” Merlin thought for a moment. “I’m not sure where it would be exactly now.”

“Surrey?” Sherlock ventured.

Merlin was quiet for a moment and then nodded. “That sounds about right.”

Sherlock gestured to Juliet. “Meet the personal assistant of their newest victim. My brother is taking his place.”

Merlin’s eyes widened at that. “Oh dear.”

“What?” Molly asked.

“I think you had best warn your brother to not make the same mistakes her superior did, or else you may be an only child,” Merlin said grimly.

“We don’t know what mistakes he made,” Sherlock said, gritting his teeth. “And Mycroft is already on his way there.”

“Then we’d better get to cracking, shouldn’t we?” Merlin said, setting the spider down on the desk and then looming over it for a moment once he stood, speaking to it in a language that sounded like clicks and hisses. The creature replied back and hit the top of the container before going back to its defiant pose.

“What did it say?” Sherlock asked.

“She called me a bastard,” Merlin said with a shrug.

“What did _you_ say?” Molly asked curiously.

“I said we were going to have a nice long chat when I was done, and if she ever wanted to stop smelling like salad dressing she better not lie or else I’d squash her beneath the heel of my boot.” Merlin shrugged. “Let’s get started.”

Sherlock turned to Molly, who shrugged slightly, and then they both turned to Merlin. There wasn’t much else they could do at this point, so they found a place to get comfortable and wait while Merlin got to work.


	5. Chapter 5

It took quite a while, and the sun had set by the time Merlin straightened up from his hunched over position. He had a rather speculative look on his face, and Sherlock thought perhaps his view on the creatures had been changed somewhat. “Well?” he asked, nudging a dozing Molly with his shoulder.

“Apparently they’ve been cursed,” Merlin said thoughtfully. “I’ll admit, long ago I hadn’t tried to reason with them. They were a menace to the countryside and a potential threat to Camelot, so the recommendation I had for Arthur was to eliminate the threat. I had _some_ knowledge of them, but Greek monsters--” There was muted hissing and clicking from the salad dressing bowl and he nodded in the direction of it, saying something in the same language until the creature calmed down. “Greek _creatures_ were a bit beyond even my knowledge. I’m vastly more knowledgeable about the effects of what’s done by the gods and goddesses of the British Isles.”

“So what’s happened to them?” Molly asked, yawning the words out.

“When Arachne began getting worshipers and they began getting magic from one of the Greek Gods, they were considered a threat to the pantheon. Many of the gods and goddesses concluded they would come looking for revenge. That was why they were transformed into the creatures. But there was also a means to control them that was created, a tome of some sort. This woman’s boss said he had the tome, and he would trade it for power, which was in their ability to give, but it was a bluff. Someone has the tome and is controlling them to be guard dogs of a sort for the forest, and that is not the life they want to lead. That is not the agreement they made with my King.”

“I thought he eradicated them,” Sherlock said, confused.

Merlin grinned and shook his head. “He was a far better man than I, sometimes. He knew they could be peaceful. They knew he could be trusted and gave him the tome for safe keeping and he hid it well until recently. And even so, it should not have been translatable. Something bigger is at play.” Merlin looked over at Sherlock. “You may need more than Molly’s help for this. It’s best if you take John with you too.”

Molly stirred from where she’d been resting and stretched before pointing to the woman who they had with them. “What about her?” she asked.

“She’ll be safe enough here,” Merlin said. “I can cast a spell where people will conveniently forget that his office exists for a bit. It might cause your brother some problems in a political sense while he’s away, but...”

Sherlock shrugged. “He wanted my help, he accepts the costs,” he replied. “Even if that means he pays for them professionally.”

“What if he pays for them in other ways?” Merlin asked. “I know there’s no love lost between you too, but are you willing to let him lose things to whoever holds this tome? Not necessarily his life, because I know you aren’t that petty, but...”

Sherlock was quiet for a moment and then shook his head. “No. He may lose a few memorandums sent to his office while you keep our unexpected occupant safe, but I won’t let him lose political clout over this. I know that’s something he holds dearer to him than anything else.”

Merlin nodded. “Then you may be able to get some help.” He gestured to the salad bowl. “I’m going to go on ahead to the village with my new acquaintance and see what good I can do about tracking down the tome. I’ll try and keep them from doing serious harm to Mycroft and his PA. But you need to get there as quickly as possible and figure out everything you can to help me, magically and with your consulting detective skills. I’ll be the hidden liaison; you be the one finding out what you can in plain sight.”

Sherlock nodded. “Very well. Do we just leave her here?”

Merlin looked at the PA. “I’ll make her comfortable and ensure she has a restful sleep until we release the spell on the office,” he said. “It’s a small comfort, but that’s all we can do for her at the moment without changing or erasing memories.”

“A dreamless sleep might be something, though,” Molly said. “I know they’ve helped me.”

“Then I’ll make sure to make it as dreamless as possible,” Merlin said. “Go back to Baker Street, get John and head to the village. Don’t bother driving, just teleport there. But be discrete. If there are unfriendly eyes, teleport with Molly’s car to the outskirts and drive in.”

“Alright,” Sherlock said as Molly moved over to him and took his hand. It didn’t take long for Sherlock to cast the spell to drop them right into the sitting room at Baker Street, and he wasn’t at all surprised to see John there, absently flipping through channels on the telly with a mug of tea to his side on the table. “Good. You’re awake. Get ready for a trip.”

“Do I at least get an explanation?” John asked, turning off the telly and standing up.

“Spiders, villagers acting like spies, Mycroft’s in the middle of it and we have to snoop around,” Sherlock said, letting go of Molly’s hand.

“Spiders?” John asked, looking at Molly.

“ _Bit_ more complicated than that,” she said, giving him a wry smile.

“Isn’t it always?” he said. “I suppose I can feign an illness. Good thing I had a cough today.”

“Good. The longer you can be fake ill, the better off we’ll be,” Sherlock said. He turned to Molly. “Do you need anything for your spell-work?”

Molly shook her head, looking embarrassed. “I...um...have a cheat.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Molly moved away and went to one of the bookshelves. Since his training with Merlin had begun, there had been a few additions to the sitting room, mostly in the number of bookshelves there were and the amount of books they now held. He knew Molly had seemed to have read all of them, but he hadn’t recognized the slim green book she held. She opened it up and he saw the pages were blank, and then she put her hand over it and muttered a spell and the pages began to fill with words and illustrations. “No matter how large the book is I need to reference, my book never gets any larger but all the pages are here. It was a spell I modified from something I saw in one of his spell books.”

“This is amazing,” Sherlock said, visibly impressed as he took the book from her and began to thumb through it. “And it works with any book?”

“Any book in Merlin’s library,” she said. “I tried to make it work for other magical books but I wasn’t able to adjust the modification. I’m still working on it.”

“Perhaps we could work on this together,” he said, closing the book and handing it back to her. “If for no other reason than we could find a way to copy the tome controlling the spider creatures and study it.”

“That’s a brilliant idea!” Molly said, her eyes lighting up. She went back and looked through the books for a bit, selecting another slim volume, this one grey. “A different blank book. We can practice on this one and it can be yours.”

Sherlock nodded, looking at the book she was handing him. The cover had a pattern to it, a fleur-de-lis in black, on most of the cover, with a darker grey spine. It seemed fitting for some reason. It was small enough to fit in the pocket of his coat and so he slipped it in and then motioned to the bedroom they shared. “Let’s get clothing and necessities and then get going. The less time spent here in London now, the better.” He watched her nod and go in the direction of their room and he followed. He felt as though a clock was ticking, and he wondered if he would beat it or if time would run out before he solved this mystery...and what he might lose if it did.


	6. Chapter 6

Molly drove her car out past London proper and towards a less populous and less monitored section of the city. He knew she would rather have left the city altogether and gone into the countryside before they teleported out, but time was a matter that didn’t allow for that. The sooner they were in Hampshire the better, if for no other reason than to keep his brother alive.

Sherlock hadn’t thought much of his family in regards to what he did, what his new purpose was. He knew they didn’t have powers and he should protect them, just as he did his friends, but some old wounds ran deep. He had not cared much for his family, and after his eldest brother left he had cared even less. The divide had been widened by his drug use and the problems of relapse and recovery, where his parents had taken a dim view of the situation and left his care up to Mycroft. To be quite honest, Mycroft had always been more of a caretaker than a brother, despite the few years age difference between them. His parents had been more concerned with themselves than either of them and…

Well, perhaps Mycroft had cared, at least enough to ensure he lived through his own stupidity. Now it was time to return the favour.

Once they were in an area that Sherlock considered safe enough, he cast the spell to transport all of them and the vehicle as well outside the village limits. He didn’t know the area so he did his best, and after a moment of John fiddling with the navigation on his mobile Molly drove them into the village. It appeared that no one had seen them show up on the outskirts out of nowhere, as there wasn’t any alarm raised, and so they made their way to the first place they could find to rest for the night.

“Sherlock, you might have a problem,” John said, nodding to a sign in the window. 

Sherlock looked at it and then groaned. Apparently, the owner of the establishment was of the “high moral ground” type, and the sign indicated unmarried couples were not welcome. He looked over at Molly and watched her bite her lower lip. “You won’t sleep unless you’re next to me, will you?” he asked.

“I can try,” she said, looking up at him.

Sherlock shook his head and then reached over for her hand, running his thumb on the back of it. “Do you think you can keep up the facade as my wife for the duration?” he asked.

She nodded. “If it means I sleep better and I’m safer than yes.”

He grasped her hand for a moment and then let go, concentrating on where he knew Mycroft kept their grandmother’s engagement and wedding bands. He was the oldest now, as far as their parents were concerned, and he was the one who had deserved him, which told Sherlock all he needed to know about his parent’s thoughts on him having any lasting romantic relationships. But Mycroft would have to forgive him borrowing them for the case.

After a moment he felt the rings in his hand before picking Molly’s hand up again. He slipped the engagement ring on first, and then the wedding band. He knew he had a wedding band in his Belstaff pocket for disguise purposes and he could manipulate it to match. “There,” he said.

Molly stared down at the rings with wide eyes. He knew the diamond in the engagement ring was on the large side and the diamonds studding it and the wedding band was extravagant. He had heard the story as a child that his grandmother had said she wanted her hand to sparkle as much as her smile and his grandfather had aimed to do just that with the rings. Molly started to say something but he shook his head, feeling in his pocket for the wedding band and slipping it on his own finger, subtly changing the colour of the band to match Molly’s. It was only an illusion laid over the ring, but it wasn’t anything he would need to keep a spell in mind for.

The three of them took their things into the inn and saw there was a dining room that had a few customers in it off to the side. They appeared to be celebrating something, and Sherlock knew he would most likely need to find out what the occasion was. He squeezed Molly’s hand and then nodded to the reception desk. “Get us two rooms as close as you can. John and I need to mingle a bit.”

She nodded and made her way to the desk while John set his things down and looked over at Sherlock. “Sounds like a party,” he said.

“Yes,” Sherlock said quietly. “I wonder what the occasion is. We should go offer our congratulations.”

“Good thing all I had was a microwaved meal for dinner,” John said.

“Which is more than what Molly or I had,” he said. He made a note to himself to have something sent up to Molly in case she was hungry. The two of them made their way into the dining area and found an empty table far away from the revelers. He had done enough cases with John since getting some mastery of his powers that they knew they didn’t need to get close to hear what was being said in whispered conversations. Sherlock could either hear the entire conversation almost beamed directly into his head or he could amplify the conversation so that only they could hear it. As people were bustling around serving the occupants of the room, however, he chose to listen to it all himself.

And the very first voice he heard was his brother’s, drunk off his arse. That was unusual.

“Government positions are...are rubbish,” Mycroft said. “I have more--”

“I need to go rescue my brother,” Sherlock said immediately, standing up and casting a quick spell to make his brother lose his voice. Not even _hours_ later and his brother was already making a fool of himself, which led Sherlock to believe one thing: there was more to this at play than _just_ alcohol.

Sherlock made his way to the more secluded part of the dining room. “Mycroft!” he said, pasting a fake smile on his face.

“Sherlock?” Mycroft asked, his face wearing a look of confusion and his voice barely above a whisper.

“I didn’t know you would be here. I’m surprised,” Sherlock said, taking a chair and sitting it at the table. There were three men, all in suits, who had appeared to be confused as to why Mycroft couldn’t talk. Sherlock could see four wine glasses on the table but three were untouched. At least this way he knew whatever had been given to Mycroft was in the wine. “The wife and I decided to take on a case up here. Strange disappearance.” Sherlock flicked his gaze at the men in the suits. “John’s with us. You know he’d like to say hi, but Molly’s going to demand to see her brother-in-law.”

“He’s busy,” a man in a grey suit to Mycroft’s left said in a clipped tone.

“Well, family takes precedence, isn’t that right, Mikey?” Sherlock said. He cast a nonverbal spell to try and clear his brother’s mind; not knowing what he’d been drugged with made it harder, but he got a nod of recognition from his brother. “Let’s go get it over with, then. I think Molly wanted an early night, and we’ll make sure you get that throat looked at by her. I mean, she only cuts open dead people, but she had to go to medical school.”

One man paled and he felt better. He went over and helped Mycroft up and then they woke their way around the table and back to where John was. John looked up at Mycroft with concern. “What in the hell happened to him?”

“He was drugged,” Sherlock said quietly. “Upstairs, now. Help?”

John stood up and they ended up maneuvering Mycroft to the reception desk. Molly was still there, getting their rooms. “Is Mr. Holmes staying here?” Sherlock asked, looking at the clerk.

“Ye...yes,” the young man said. “The room next to yours, with his wife.”

Sherlock nodded. “We’ll make sure she takes good care of my brother,” he said before heading to the stairs. They made their way up slowly, with Molly carrying their things, and instead of going to their room they made their way to Mycroft’s. When they got there Sherlock rapped on the door. “Andrea? Open up.”

“Andrea?” John asked.

“Her name really isn’t Anthea,” Sherlock said. “Did you think it was?”

“Well...” John said as the door opened. 

Anthea took one look at the scene and then shook her head. “I told him I should have gone with him,” she said as she moved out of the way.

“They would have drugged you too,” Sherlock said, casually tossing Mycroft onto the bed when they got close enough. “I would expect to be asked to leave tomorrow when it comes out you two aren’t married.”

“No, I doubt that will be an issue,” Anthea said, moving over to him. “Your death interrupted our two year wedding anniversary. I was rather angry at Moriarty and if he hadn’t died on that roof I would have killed him myself.”

Sherlock merely nodded, not entirely surprised. “I didn’t steal your wedding rings, did I?”

“Your grandmother’s?” Anthea asked. Sherlock nodded. “I never cared for them. Mycroft just didn’t want you to have them.”

“Ah,” he replied. He helped get Mycroft adjusted on the bed. “Your husband was about to spill quite a bit more than I think he ever intended to.”

“What kind of wine was it?” Molly asked.

“I didn’t check,” Sherlock replied.

Molly thought for a moment. “I’ll be back.” With that, she slipped out of the room.

“Aren’t you going with her?” Anthea asked as she lifted Mycroft’s head up to slide underneath and rest it on her lap.

Sherlock shook his head. “If she’s going to snoop, it’s best if I keep my distance. I already made a scene getting him out of there.” He looked over at his brother’s face and lifted up his closed eyelids. “I don’t think we can go so far as him having been poisoned, but drugged, I would agree to.”

“Why would he be poisoned?” Anthea asked, her eyes widening.

“Once they got the information they needed, he would be a loose end, as would you. Poison him with more of the wine, and if you got especially inquisitive, let the spider creatures deal with you. They’ve already killed once that we know of.”

“Spider...creatures...” Mycroft murmured.

“He was an idiot to let himself be taken advantage like that,” Sherlock said, shaking his head.

“Maybe not as much as you think.” Sherlock looked up and saw Molly standing there. The door hadn’t opened so obviously she had a new trick up her sleeve. She held a wine glass in her hand, and Sherlock recognized it as the one Mycroft had been drinking from. “Quick glamour over me and I was basically invisible. I took the glass and then popped back in, but not until after I heard they didn’t get a thing out of Mycroft.”

Sherlock turned back to his brother, looking at him with awe. “Drunk, drugged, and still kept his secrets?”

“That’s Mycroft,” Anthea said with a soft smile. She looked over at Molly. “Are you as good as Mycroft thinks you are at magic?”

“Well, I managed to learn the teleportation spell and was powerful enough to get myself and the wine glass here,” she said. “Though I don’t know how good Mycroft thinks I am.”

“At least as skilled as Sherlock,” Anthea said.

“I have similar skills, but different ones, and I’m not as strong or as adept at creating my own spells,” she said. “But I am getting very good at identifying things.” She handed the glass to Sherlock. “Take a whiff.”

He nodded and then sniffed the wine. “Licorice?” he asked.

She nodded. “I wouldn’t be surprised if there are bluebells at work in there too. Which means he may be making frequent trips to the loo; it can be used as a diuretic.” She looked at the wine with distaste. “Someone knows their herb and wine mixtures, to make sure Mycroft never knew what he was ingesting, but I think the whole bottle was treated because none of the other glasses were touched. I wanted to grab it but it felt...wrong.”

“It’s best you didn’t,” Sherlock said. “I know Merlin says that we should be on our guard, and if it was something that made you feel ill at ease, then it was probably mixed with ill intent.”

Molly nodded. “But we have this, at least, for Merlin to look at if he comes to the inn.”

“I get the feeling he will, as soon as his conversations with the creatures are taken care of, whatever they may be.”

“So I’m going to get sleep and you two probably won’t?” John asked.

“Probably,” Molly said. She looked back at Mycroft. “I can...umm...transport to the workrooms and get something to help Mycroft deal with any hangover he might have.”

“You _have_ been studious,” Sherlock said, a note of pride in his voice.

“Well, it isn’t _hard_ , at least if it’s just me and something I’m holding,” she said. “But it should help with sleep. I may have had a few too many glasses of wine around Merlin and he may have suggested something to help.”

“Thank you, Molly,” Anthea said. She nodded and this time Sherlock watched her cast the spell to leave again. She had quite the good grasp on it, though she had to say it out loud. Interesting how her powers were growing. Then Anthea spoke again. “He’ll be alright?” she asked, her voice sounding just slightly worried.

“If Molly says he will, he will. Potions and spells involving herbs seem to be her area of expertise now, and Merlin is training her well.” He looked over at Anthea and his brother. He had questions, but they could wait. “If Molly comes back here, send her to our room when she’s done. I’ll make sure there is food waiting.”

Anthea nodded and Sherlock and John picked up their things, heading down the hall to the next room. “Stay on your guard, then?” John asked as Sherlock paused outside of the room he and Molly were to share.

Sherlock nodded. “Trust no one here aside from Mycroft and Andrea.” He paused. “We’ll have to make do with the food, but don’t eat or drink anything given to you unless Molly or I have checked it ourselves. I’ll do the same as much as I’m able for Andrea and Mycroft.” He opened his door and went in. Not even one day into the case and already there was trouble. This did not bode well at all.


	7. Chapter 7

Molly came to join him in the room after she had taken care of Mycroft and after a light supper of things she had fetched from Baker Street on her way back and changing into the pyjamas they settled into bed. Molly rested her head on his chest as she always did and was asleep soon afterward, but Sherlock took more time to fall asleep.

He hadn’t had many premonitions or guided dreams, but once again he saw the figure on the stag. Instead of waking up in a panic, however, he chose to move forward. He still felt that chill of fear down his spine, but he needed to _know_. Why was he dreaming of death? Admittedly it could have been close with his brother, but…

He made his way closer to the stag and instead of running his down in stamped its feet for a moment, then turned. He didn’t recognize the forest the figure was leading him into, but soon he saw massive threads of silken webbing throughout the trees. It reminded him of the scene in the Harry Potter movie Sherlock had watched with Molly when the two young boys had gone into the forest to find out what the groundskeeper wanted them to know. This trip, however, seemed much scarier to him than theirs had. 

Soon he was led to a clearing, where there was a larger spider creature than he had ever imagined. It had to be Arachne, he supposed, because there were still feminine features in her face that looked wholly human, and admittedly rather beautiful. If he remembered his myth, Arachne had been celebrated not just because of her prowess as a weaver but her beauty as well.

 _You control your premonitions well,_ he heard a more human voice say, with some of the clicking sounds the other spider had made. He realized the voice was feminine and he thought it must be Arachne, though the female spider creature in front of him paid him no mind, focusing instead on a spider in her hand.

 _I’m curious,_ he thought, projecting his voice out as he watched other spiders crawl on her.

 _We’re being manipulated,_ came the reply, and he saw a yellow aura around her and the spiders crawling on her that he hadn’t seen before. _Powerful magic has landed into the hands of the wrong sort. If he isn’t stopped, this is what will happen._

As he watched, the spider in her palm crawled away from her and the other spiders followed. Some were normal spiders and some were miniature versions of the creature he had caught. Soon the forest floor was a seething mass of spiders, heading towards the stag and him and then through them, down the forest path they had walked up. He couldn’t fathom how many there were, but it was easily in the hundreds at least.

And then the scene blurred and shifted and he was in Hampshire, one it wasn’t the village as he had experienced it earlier that evening. There was webbing all over, as though the spiders had wanted to consume the contents of the buildings and cars later. He could hear the sound of chattering all over, punctuated with the occasional human scream. _My followers and my children will take over the village_ , the female voice said. _We will consume all living things in its borders. And then...we will spread._

 _This is not your choice?_ Sherlock thought, looking around.

 _The forest has always given what we need. But now the forest is disappearing,_ the voice said. _Our food has been scarce. The evil magic controlling us has made us hunger for more...exotic fare._

Sherlock felt himself shudder. _And if the magic is broken?_ he asked.

As though a wind swept through the village the webbing floated away from everything it covered, and the occasional scream was replaced with the normal noises a village made. _Then the humans will be safe_ , the voice said. _But not necessarily all of them._

And with that warning he felt a cold hand on his shoulder, turning in time to see Death reach for him, and he couldn’t control the dream any longer. He sat bolt upright, breathing hard, and realized Molly was already awake, having been smoothing back his hair. “Death,” he said in a gasp.

“Another premonition?” she asked, looking at him with worry.

He nodded. “I could control it, though, until...”

She nodded, reaching for his hand and squeezing it. “You were ice cold,” she said. “I started to worry.”

He nodded again, knowing it made no difference but just the act of moving his head made him feel better. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Molly leaned over and wrapped her arms around him from the side, and after a moment he reached up and grasped her arms. Yes, he did feel cold still, and her body was warm. He wanted to steal some of that warmth to drive the chill out. She rested her chin on his shoulder and pressed against him, as though she _knew_ he wanted to be close to her. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

He shook his head slightly. “Not yet,” he said, shutting his eyes. He felt an urge to kiss her, to feel warm and alive again, but he knew it wasn’t the best idea. It could go too far and he worried that they were not at that point yet. The urge was stronger than he had thought it would be, and he was torn between pulling her onto his lap and letting things go how they would or pushing her away. After a moment, he gently pried her arms from around him. “Space. I need space,” he said.

She nodded and let go completely, moving back for a moment before getting out of the bed. He went to ask what she was doing but she went to the pitcher of water nearby and poured him a glass. “It’s probably not what you need,” she said.

“I need a cold shower more than a cold drink,” he said, but he took the glass anyway.

She was quiet for a moment. “Maybe a warm shower would be better. It would warm you up.” He looked over at her and saw that she looked a little embarrassed.

“I don’t mean to push you away, Molly,” he said, setting the glass on his nightstand. “But are we at this point? I know you’ve said it doesn’t matter, but...”

She leaned in and kissed him softly. He wasn’t expecting that, but after a moment he kissed her more possessively, pulling her back onto the bed and then keeping her close. She kissed him back eagerly before letting her fingers skirt towards the bottom hem of his T-shirt.

He knew things were going to change at this point, after tonight, but that wasn’t the foremost thought in his head. All he knew is he wanted to be close, as close as she would let him, and let her warm him to the bone and chase away the fear that still traveled down his spine. This was a sort of unique magic all its own, he realized, and he was completely under her spell.


	8. Chapter 8

His second attempt at sleep, many hours later, went much better than the first. There was not another prophetic dream lurking in his brain and he felt more relaxed than he had in ages. He hadn’t expected anything to happen while they were in Hampshire, especially on the first night, but he didn’t regret it. He had the feeling Molly didn’t either if the peaceful slumber she was in and her legs being entwined with his when he woke up was any indication.

She was still asleep when he woke up, even though it was a bit later than they usually woke up. He wasn’t sure what to do regarding breakfast, as he felt that he should do something like present her with breakfast in bed, but he also didn’t want to move. He ended up keeping her close instead, running his fingers through her hair.

“Sher—oh,” he heard from the foot of the bed and looked up with wide eyes to see Merlin turning around. “Unexpected.”

“Unwanted, too,” Sherlock said quietly, causing Molly to stir. “Go before she wakes up.”

Merlin nodded and was gone as quickly as he had shown up just as Molly woke up. “Who were you talking to?” she murmured sleepily.

“Merlin,” he said.

Her eyes widened and she pulled the sheet up. “Oh, bloody hell,” she said, ducking her head into the crook of his neck.

“You were well covered,” Sherlock assured her. “I was showing more bare skin than you were.”

“That habit of his is going to get even more annoying now, isn’t it?” she asked.

“Perhaps we can ask him to announce himself,” Sherlock mused. “Or never go into the bedroom again.”

She lifted her head up and gave him a slightly devilish look. “But that leaves out so many other places,” she teased. He looked at her for a moment and cursed the fact he knew Merlin was simply waiting for them to be more presentable because while he _knew_ there was a case and lives dependent on what they were able to accomplish with the spider creatures, he wanted to linger in bed for some time with Molly and ignore the world. But she seemed to understand when she leaned in and gave him a soft but lingering kiss before getting out of bed and heading towards her luggage. At least he could appreciate the view for a moment.

Though a shirt in the face ended that.

“You know he’s waiting,” she said, smirking at him before pulling on a pair of knickers.

“Unfortunately,” he said with a sigh, getting out of bed himself. There wasn’t even time for a quick shower, he thought to himself as he got dressed himself. Once they were more appropriately dressed for company he sat on the edge of the bed with Molly and spoke out loud. “We’re decent.”

A moment later there was a small tinkling sound of a bell and then Merlin appeared. “Better?” he asked with a smirk.

“If you keep eavesdropping on our conversations I’m going to dig through your books and soundproof the flat,” Molly said with a slight glare.

“Well, most of the people I’ve trained don’t have romantic partners,” Merlin said. “You two constitute the most unique situation I’ve had to deal with in an age. Two magic users from two bloodlines who frankly would normally be mortal enemies, linked by magic and romantically involved.”

“We do like to be different,” Sherlock said. He crossed his arms and looked at Merlin. “Any chance we can put that to an advantage?”

“I had the creatures show me things that they were able to,” Merlin said beginning to pace. “There seems to be some geas on them of some sort. Their actions are being controlled to some extent, but not all of them. There’s a modicum of free will that they still have.”

“I know,” Sherlock said, frowning at the unexpected complication. “I had a visit with Arachne in my dreams last night. As well as Death itself.”

“Not for the first time,” Molly said.

Merlin stopped pacing. “What?”

“A hooded Grim Reaper figure on a stag,” Sherlock said, looking over at Merlin. “The first time seemed to simply be a premonition that there would be death in this. The second seemed to be simply him...waiting. To see what I was told.”

Merlin tilted his head slightly. “And what were you told?”

“Basically if the creatures don’t regain their own wills completely, the village is doomed, and then more of humanity afterward,” Sherlock said. “Whoever is controlling them is cutting them off from their food supply as well as encroaching on their forest. They are hungering for more exotic fare, namely humans.”

“That would be something to have your brother look into,” Molly said. “Who’s trying to get control of the forest. I mean, there has to be permits and such to be able to privatize part of it, isn’t there?”

“She has a very good point,” Merlin said with a nod. “Use every advantage you have, magical and not.” He nodded towards her handbag. “Do you have your book, Molly?”

She nodded, getting off the bed and getting the slim volume out. “Yes,” she said. “Why?”

“The creatures were able to salvage a page from the book before it was given to Arthur. I’ll transfer the contents to your book.”

“I was going to make one for Sherlock,” she said.

Merlin nodded. “Then give me his.”

Sherlock got up and went to his Belstaff, pulling his book out of the coat’s pocket. He handed it to Merlin and Merlin cast a spell on it. The book glowed for a moment, and then he handed it back to Sherlock. “I took care of it for you, as well as included the page. Can you translate it?”

Sherlock opened the book and saw a page written in ancient Greek on the front. Some of the words were foreign to him, even with his knowledge of the language, but he was able to get the gist of what was on it. “It’s a spell to help fend them off without killing them, I believe,” he said, looking up. “I just can’t translate all of it.”

“But you _can_ understand it,” Merlin said, his voice somewhat insistent.

“Yes,” Sherlock said with a nod. “Why?”

“A change of plans,” Merlin said. “I have more power at my disposal, so I’ll see what I can do to break the hold on them without the book. You two, on the other hand, figure out who could be controlling them and then get the book back. If I can’t break the geas, it will be up to you.”

“What about your brother? And then men he was with?” Molly asked Sherlock.

“What about him?” Merlin asked.

“Mycroft was drugged, in order to tell the truth about something,” Sherlock said. “There were three men dining with him and the wine had been tampered with. They didn’t drink any of it.”

Merlin stroked his beard. “Then I would start your search with Mycroft’s dining companions,” he said. “See if they’re capable of magic and if not, then extend your search.” He paused then. “Be careful, though. While we have the cooperation of the creatures for the moment if you become troublesome to somebody...”

“Understood,” Sherlock said. Merlin gave them both a nod and the tinkling of the bell sounded before he disappeared. “That bell sound is going to get highly annoying.”

“But it’s better than him just showing up,” Molly said, leaning over to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Should I pop back over to Baker Street and whip up something for breakfast while you update John?”

“That might be best,” he said. He watched her cast the familiar spell and disappear herself, leaving him alone in the room. He had a place to start, at least, and that was something. Hopefully, it would be enough.


	9. Chapter 9

By the time Molly came back with breakfast John was dressed and in their room, and Sherlock had also roused Andrea and Mycroft, much to Mycroft’s consternation. Once he was told he had been magically drugged, however, he seemed more amenable to being woken up and checked over by Molly. There was a knock on the door of his and Molly’s room at the same time she popped back in with a picnic basket on her arm. “When did we get a picnic basket?” Sherlock asked over his shoulder as he went to answer the door.

“I borrowed it from Martha,” Molly said. “I assumed we’d be feeding a small army, so she helped make coffee and gather it all up.

“You are brilliant,” Sherlock said with a small smile as he opened the door to face his brother and his sister-in-law. That was going to take some getting used to, he realized, but he knew they had their reasons for not telling him or anyone else, apparently. “We have breakfast,” he told them.

“I don’t think I want to touch any food,” Mycroft said, his face looking queasy.

“There is toast and porridge for you,” Molly said as they entered the room. “Something bland, just in case you want it.”

Mycroft nodded. “Perhaps that I can stomach.” They made their way in further towards the bed and sat down. 

Molly pulled more food out of the basket than could possibly fit and began setting it on the dresser: fruit, porridge, toast, pancakes, syrup, butter, scrambled eggs...Sherlock watched and then determined he needed to ask her for whatever spell she enchanted the basket with. His Belstaff pockets could use a similar spell. When she was done she pulled out plates and cutlery as well. “It is still strange seeing it in action,” Andrea said.

“You get used to it,” John said with a grin, getting up and heading to grab a plate. “It definitely has advantages at times.”

“Do you regret not having access to magic?” Andrea asked, following him.

John shook his head. “Not really. I take the precautions I can with the pendant I wear and having various spells cast _on_ me, and I know the buildings I spend most of my time in are warded, so all it really means is that I just have to be extra alert to things that are off to let those two know.”

“You know Merlin would give you things if you needed them to take care of yourself,” Sherlock said as he joined them for breakfast.

“Would it extend to other people in your circle?” Mycroft asked quietly. 

Sherlock stilled, seeing that Andrea had gotten her own breakfast first, and then went to pick up a bowl and went for the container of porridge. “If there’s need. Though Merlin would do it for things beyond our training so far. Molly has skill with object-centered magic. I’m sure she can make you and Andrea protection amulets. And I can add spells for specific threats.” He tried to remember how Mycroft took his porridge when they were children and made it the same way. “But your office, and I’d assume your home, is warded at least as well as Baker Street. You actually have someone in your office right now, fast asleep, to be kept safe.” He finished making the porridge and got a spoon for it before taking it to Mycroft. Mycroft looked up and gave him a small smile before taking the bowl. “I’ll see if we can find a way to have the correspondence that should be taken to your office rerouted.”

Mycroft waved a hand and then took a spoonful of the porridge out of the bowl. “It can keep. Andrea says I work too much anyway, and if it keeps the personal assistant safe, then it’s worth it.”

Sherlock watched as his brother took the first bite and then seemed to enjoy it by taking a second spoonful out. When he was done he turned back to the food, catching the wide smile on Molly’s face before getting his own food ready. He forgot that as cold-blooded as Mycroft could seem, he cared about those who worked for him. And even though Juliet did _not_ work for him, she was part of this all and therefore she would be someone he took care of. Mycroft was not the type to want blood on his hands.

Once everyone was settled, Sherlock spoke again. “We need your help, Mycroft,” he said.

Mycroft gave him a wide-eyed look. “My help?” he asked.

“Between Merlin and I, we have found that the woods are being encroached upon,” Sherlock said. “There is someone with a hold over the creatures, and they seem to be taking away their food supply and the area in which they live. We need your help finding out who is legally trying to take over the forest. And illegally, too, I suppose.”

There was a nod from Mycroft. “I can sort that information out for you, for both the legal and illegal occupation.” He took another bite of his porridge. “It would be good for the reason I’m here as it is.”

“Just why _are_ you here?” Molly asked from her position sitting on the floor.

“There is an effort to change the borders of the village,” Mycroft said. “They need political clout in London because there is strong opposition from conservancy groups and certain members of the other villages. Most are in agreement to the plan but not all.”

Molly nodded. “But why get rid of the other politician?”

“Perhaps he disagreed with the plan,” Andrea said.

“He was having his doubts that the proposal was in the best interest of the outlying villages,” Mycroft said. “It seemed to center on the forest, from what I gathered.”

“That makes sense if someone is using the creatures in the forest for evil ends and that person wants control of the area,” John said. “So it shouldn’t be that hard to find out who’s trying to take it for themselves.”

“Roberts,” Mycroft said, and everyone turned to him. “One of the men last night...he didn’t stay when the wine came out, but Roberts had an interest in my plans for rezoning the forest.”

“Then we’ll concentrate on him,” Sherlock said with a nod. “In the meantime, Molly and I will do our best to make sure you’re not put in a position like you were last night again, and we’ll protect you as best we can.”

“I can go to the workroom and make two amulets,” Molly said. “Should we ask Merlin to do the spells?”

“I can manage,” Sherlock said. “He’s doing important work and shouldn’t be bothered.”

“Alright,” she replied. She had some more of her food before turning to Mycroft and Andrea. “Do either of you have preferences? I have some leeway with what jewelry I use, as long as it’s something you won’t take off.”

“I’ll take something simple,” Andrea said.

“Could you, perhaps, enchant a ring for me?” Mycroft asked.

Molly nodded. “Yes, absolutely. Do you have one in particular?”

Mycroft set his bowl aside and then reached behind his neck to pull up a chain. “This one. My wedding ring.”

Molly gave him a warm smile. “Are there inscriptions on it?” Molly shook his head. “I may have to add some, but I’ll keep them on the inside.”

“Thank you,” Mycroft said. He caught Sherlock’s eye as he pulled the chain over his head. “I suppose since you know Mummy and Father should know as well.”

“They’ll be happy,” Sherlock said.

“Does it matter if they are or not?” Mycroft asked as he handed the chain and ring to Molly, who had stood up to take them from him. “They weren’t ecstatic about you and Dr. Hooper.”

“Fair point,” Sherlock said with a nod. He and Molly had been open about their relationship since her near-death experience, and his parents had not once asked to meet her. Knowing Mycroft had gone ahead and gotten _married_ and had been for years would most likely just foster hostility from them, not happiness.

Andrea reached behind her neck as well. “If you can do that with his ring, perhaps you could with mine as well?” 

“The ring on your finger isn’t your wedding band?” Sherlock asked.

Andrea shook her head. “I have quite a few rings I wear when needed, to imply different things,” she said. She unclasped the necklace and then Molly went to get hers. “It’s part of blending into the background. As our marriage is secret, I don’t tend to wear my actual ring on my finger, but Mycroft and I have collected a few over the years as something specific to our relationship.”

Sherlock paused for a moment. “Why didn’t you use our grandmother’s rings?”

“I have enough issues with our family,” Mycroft said quietly. “I didn’t want to drag my troubled past into my future with Andrea.” He had some more of his porridge. “You may keep them, if you want, but I suggest if you and Dr. Hooper choose to actually marry, you get something else.”

Sherlock nodded and went back to his food. He hadn’t expected for his relationship with his brother to change so drastically during this case, but he had the feeling that when they returned to London there would be differences in how they treated each other. And, perhaps, it would not be a bad thing. But for now, they needed to concentrate on the case at hand to make sure they _did_ return to London...alive, preferably.


	10. Chapter 10

As breakfast continued they began to plot out what they were going to do. Mycroft would continue to do what he had been told to do, but be much more careful in what he ate or drank in the proceedings. Molly had said if he could postpone his next meeting until she gave him back his ring it would help, as he wouldn’t be affected by any magic like they had tried to foist on him the night before and he said he would do his best. He would also have information for them on who was trying to take control of the forest. Molly would go to Merlin’s workshop and work on enchanting the rings and bring them meals that they knew were safe. Sherlock and John, meanwhile, would begin to track down the mysterious Roberts and find out what his connection was to all of this.

Once Molly, Mycroft and Andrea had left the room, Sherlock and John left the inn and began to go around the village. It was reminiscent of their time in the moors, on the case that Henry Knight had set them on. That seemed like such a long time ago, Sherlock realized as they eventually settled in the most popular pub in the village to listen in on conversations and see what the general attitude to the rezoning plans as well as Mycroft’s arrival was. To think that it really _wasn’t_ in the far distant past was surprising. He hadn’t realized just how much his life had changed, or just how drastically, until he compared his past to his present.

“This seems like old times,” John said, echoing his thoughts.

“Baskerville,” he said with a nod.

“Even more than that,” John said, looking down at the pint he had bought that he was sipping at. “I know Molly is important, that she does things I can’t do for you, but this...you and I being on the case, doing normal things...I have missed that.”

Sherlock pulled his attention away from the conversation he was eavesdropping on and looked at John. “Have we drifted so far apart?” he asked quietly.

“No, it’s not that,” John said, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “I don’t _mind_ not being magical, not being able to help you with that, but it seems there’s more of the weird cases these days and less where I can do anything to really help.”

Sherlock looked at him, surprised. Didn’t John know that there was a part of him that would always crave the old cases, they partnership with John and the way they were? And he would never willingly give them up no matter how many weird cases he got? No, apparently he didn’t. “You will always be my partner,” Sherlock said. “And you will always be my friend. No matter how strange my life may become, you will always have a place in it, John.”

He nodded, looking as though he was finally able to relax. “That’s good to know,” John said.

Sherlock was going to reply again when he recognized the three men who had had dinner with Mycroft he night before coming into the pub. He made sure the spell to make gazes slide over himself and John was firmly in place with no way he could find to break it, and then nodded towards the door. “We have important company,” he replied.

John looked over and tilted his head as they went towards a more private booth. “Can you let me hear the conversation they have in my head?”

“What are you planning?” Sherlock asked curiously.

“I think you should go talk to your brother for a bit about those three men,” he said. “Because that spell you cast? They were looking right at you.”

Sherlock was surprised. This was an interesting development. There should have been no way to defeat that spell…

...unless they, too, had amulets or something of that sort that nullified magic. Why he hadn’t thought of that, he didn’t know. “It may do no good,” he said.

“Cast it anyway and if it doesn’t, I have a few ideas,” John said. “They didn’t pay any attention to me, just you. I’ll figure something out.”

Sherlock nodded and then cast the spell under his breath. John’s eyes widened for a moment, and then he picked up his pint and headed towards the bar to sit near the three men. Sherlock watched to make sure he was safe and then got up and left the pub. He would trust John as he had before, that he would be able to handle himself and get the information they needed. It had been a long time getting to that point where he didn’t run roughshod over John to make sure everything was done to perfection.

Instead of talking to his brother immediately, he decided to inspect the woods. Not the full extent of it, where he could get into trouble for going there alone, but that part that edged the village. There was something there that he and a select few knew about, but he gathered that most people thought nothing of it other than “don’t go into them too deeply.” Even not knowing the full story, they knew it wasn’t safe. Perhaps by the time they left, the forest would be saf _er_ again.

He made his way out of the village towards the forest, paying attention to his surroundings. He noticed more spiders in webs along the way, and a few of them were not all they seemed, being the small creatures like the one he and Molly had imprisoned in the dressing container. He didn’t feel any particular antagonism towards him, which he assumed meant the geas was not fully on them, otherwise, he would be looked at as a threat or a meal source.

When he got to the woods he put his hand on one of the trees and then suddenly pulled it away as images flooded through his mind. These woods were old. Ancient, possibly. They had been around long before Camelot was a twinkle in Merlin’s eye, he realized. After centering himself and getting to a state where he could accept the images without overloading himself, he set his hand on the wood again.

_An army rode to the forest, crests gleaming and banners snapping in the wind. One man, one who did not wear the same armor as the others, was in front. There was a crown on his head, fair hair underneath. King Arthur was to have words with the creatures, and they were not sure to trust him._

_Instead of waiting for the creatures to send an envoy, he told his army to go back and wait in the field over. Then he rode into the forest, alone._

_It was dark, and he was watched. He knew that and so he stopped and shed his chain mail and sent his horse back to the entrance of the forest. He walked further in in nothing more than the padding and clothing he wore underneath his mail to make sure it did not injure him. Not even his crest was visible._

_”Arthur of Camelot,” a female voice said in the darkness. “Why have you come here?”_

_”To have words,” Arthur replied. “To come to a peaceful agreement.”_

_Suddenly underbrush parted for him and he followed a path. There was no more dialogue in the conversation, just flashes of images as the queen of the spider creatures and the king of Camelot negotiated things. Finally, a multitude of small spiders carried a book to Arthur, and once they did and Arthur’s hand touched it, images flooded his brain faster than he could see it. And then it was gone._

Sherlock pulled his hand away, blinking at the brightness of the day, and then shut his eyes and ran through the section of his mind palace where he kept the books Merlin gave him to study. There, next to the last book Merlin had given him, was the tome they were looking for. He pulled the mind palace version out, opened it and saw it was full of pages just like the one Merlin had transferred into the book he carried.

They had the book. They still needed to find the _physical_ copy of the book that Arthur had been given, that problem was not negated yet, but the spell to control the spider creatures was at his disposal now. 

Sherlock opened his eyes and gazed into the forest, a feeling settling over him, something familiar and yet different. The familiar part reminded him of Molly, the feeling that he had when she worked magic with him or on him. But the rest… He pulled his hand away and looked at it. This gift of the book had not been because of a spell Molly had cast or magic Merlin had done while in the forest. Someone _else_ had interfered in this, with the intent of helping him. Someone who had a connection to Molly in some way.

The question was...who?


	11. Chapter 11

“What do you mean, you have the book in your mind palace?”

Two hours after the trip to the forest, Sherlock, Molly and Merlin were back in the bedroom Sherlock and Molly were sharing. Sherlock was trying to figure out a spell to transfer the mind version of the book to the magical book he had while Molly was making sandwiches to feed all of them along with the soup she’d brought from Baker Street. Sherlock _knew_ it was important but he was worried. He’d stopped by the pub and John was nowhere to be seen, and neither were the three people he’d been eavesdropping on. He was more concerned about John at the moment than going into detail of how he got the book.

Sherlock waved his hand. “Touched a tree, saw a vision, and then it was in my head.”

“That’s a spell Morgan used,” Merlin said quietly.

 _That_ caught Sherlock’s full attention, at least for the moment. “It felt similar to Molly’s magic, the residue,” he said.

“That would make sense, as Molly is a descendant,” Merlin said. He moved in front of Sherlock and looked at him intently. “How similar did it feel? This is important, Sherlock.”

Sherlock thought back. “Very. But...it felt similar to mine, too.”

Merlin gave him a look. “That’s not possible.”

“What isn’t?” Molly asked.

“You two haven’t had children. There’s no way there would be someone in this world with the feeling of _both_...your...” He trailed off and then his eyes went wide. “Bloody hell, he found her.”

“Who did?” Sherlock asked as Merlin sat next to him, stunned.

“Your brother,” Merlin said.

“Mycroft has no magic powers,” Sherlock said, confused.

“No. Your _other_ brother,” Merlin said. “How much do you remember about Sherrinford?”

“Not much,” Sherlock said with a shrug. “He was older than Mycroft and gone when I was young.”

Merlin leaned back onto the bed they’d been sitting on. “For a time, I thought your brother would be the one I would train,” Merlin said. “He had powers since birth, which was the same as most of my descendants. I wasn’t going to approach him until he was older, but I kept an eye on him. Made sure he was safe, that he ‘found’ things that would help. It was how I had trained the others. But then he disappeared. No trace of him whatsoever, magically or not.”

“But who did he find?” Sherlock asked, his mind starting to reel.

“Morgan Le Fey, Sherlock,” Merlin said. “She’s been hidden for so long no one knows where to find her, but your brother bloody found her.”

“You mean my ancestor is responsible for training Sherlock’s brother, and he...helped?” Molly asked, pausing in her sandwich making.

“That’s the only way this makes sense,” Merlin said. “I’ve researched your lineage, Molly. There is no way you and Sherlock are related. There have been no ancestors of yours who’ve had a child at _any_ point in history. And only someone Morgan trains will have the residue of her power.” Merlin sat up again, rubbing his chin. “But why would he help? Morgan is the type who would usually take our controller’s side as opposed to ours. If it makes my life harder, she’s for it.”

“Is that why you said we would normally be enemies, Molly and I?” Sherlock asked.

Merlin nodded. “Morgan’s other descendants were different, but yes. They would all inherit her tendency to muck up any of my plans.”

“Perhaps it was family loyalty?” Molly asked.

“I don’t know if that would be strong enough to counter Morgan’s influence,” Merlin said, looking at the two of them critically. “But you two are different. It could be Sherrinford is different as well.” He stood up then and focused his gaze on Sherlock. “Can you handle this situation with the spider creatures yourself? I need to look into this further.”

Sherlock nodded slowly. “As long as I can reach you if I need to,” he said.

“I’ll make sure of--” A pounding at the door interrupted them, and they all turned to face it for a moment before Sherlock got up to answer it. John stood there, sporting a cut lip and puffiness under one eye, cradling his arm. “What happened to you?”

“A three-on-one fist fight,” John said, frowning. “Or rather, three and magic on one.” Then he smirked. “But there are now three unconscious blokes in the back of Molly’s backseat you might want to have a chat with.”

Sherlock grinned, looking impressed. “Have Molly take a look at you and I’ll go collect our guests.”

John grinned back. “This magic stuff is useless if your amulets break,” he said, holding up three amulets on broken chains. 

“Which is why _your_ amulet is on an unbreakable chain,” Merlin said. “Maybe I’ll stay around for this before I do research.”

“That might be best,” John said. “They aren’t powerful, either magically or physically, but extra hands on deck would be good.”

Merlin nodded. “I’ll go collect our guests. Sherlock, get ready to give them a rude awakening.”

“With pleasure,” Sherlock said. He watched Merlin blink out and then moments later come back with his hands full of three people who looked twice as bad as John did. Sherlock turned to John and nodded approvingly. “There are times I wonder what might have happened if you weren’t in therapy.”

“Oh, that’s about right for me at my most violent,” John said, nodding to the men. He paused, and then fished something out of his coat pocket. “You may want to make sure none of the rest of them have one of these. The blonde dropped it when I broke his wrist.”

Merlin stepped away from the unconscious men and took the dagger from John, holding its hilt between two fingers. “You were incredibly lucky, John,” Merlin said. “A nick from this and you’d be dying a slow, agonizing death.”

“Good thing these three are useless in a fight,” John said. Then he turned to Sherlock. “You’d better make sure there aren’t any more surprises.”

“Yes,” Sherlock said. This was an unexpected bonus, even if it had caused John some pain. Perhaps getting answers from the source would be better than sneaking around. “Was one of them Roberts?”

John shook his head. “Rogers, Stevens and Barnes. No Roberts among them.”

“Pity,” Sherlock said. Well, this would still be interesting nonetheless, at least once he made sure that all of them were safe. Hopefully, they would have answers, and quickly.


	12. Chapter 12

Sherlock and Merlin debated whether they could get more information while the men were unconscious or awake, whether reading their minds would get better information than listening to them speak. The fact that there were more weapons on them that could have given anyone, including those idiots, an agonizing death made Merlin decide to take them somewhere safe, out of reach of any magic they could have affecting them, and take Sherlock with him to do the interrogating.

It was a good plan but they were already too late; in the brief amount of time between when John got them into the car and left them alone to go inform the others of what was going on and Merlin collecting them, their minds had been tampered with. Shoddily, according to Merlin, but effectively. Sherlock returned to the inn alone, feeling rather dejected.

John was having a cup of tea held in his good hand while his other arm was in a sling. He had a bandage on his face and Molly had had him change into a fresh shirt. “Did you learn anything?” he asked when Sherlock popped back into the room.

Sherlock shook his head. “Their memories were more or less wiped,” he said.

John gave Sherlock a surprised look. “I only left them alone for...what, five minutes? Maybe closer to ten?”

“Then that means Roberts is in the village and was aware of what happened,” Sherlock said, sitting on the bed. He looked around the room and frowned. “Where’s Molly?”

“Taking a shower. She said she wanted to take one this morning but was rudely interrupted,” John said, a slow smile coming up on his face. “Apparently things got quite cozy last night.”

Sherlock shrugged, not really wanting to talk about it. He didn’t know why, but he wanted to keep his thoughts on being intimate with her to himself. “Yes,” he said.

John’s smile got softer, and he shook his head. “Was your brother right? Were you a virgin?”

“ _No,_ ” he said, scowling. “But it was never...” He groped for what to say. “It was a release before, nothing more. Last night was...different.”

John nodded. “You should go join her, then,” John said. “She just stepped in. I can make myself scarce.”

Sherlock looked towards the loo and then shook her head. “As tempting as that is, I need you for a moment. You overheard a conversation between the three of them, I hope. I need to know what you heard.”

“Four of them,” John said. Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “They were getting ripped a new one by someone else. I never saw the bloke, but I could recognize his voice.”

“Now, by any chance?” Sherlock asked.

“Let me rest a bit,” John said. “Is there a way you can make dinner safe for us to eat at the pub?”

Sherlock nodded. “There are.”

“Then you relax for a bit and we’ll try to find our mysterious Mr. Roberts during supper,” John said, setting his tea down and standing up, reaching for a plate that Sherlock saw had food on it. “I’ll take a sandwich in the meantime. Do you want soup?”

Sherlock shook his head. “I don’t have much of an appetite.”

“She said she already fed your brother and his wife so I’ll take what’s left and you...enjoy yourself,” he said, reaching over for a thermos and then nodding to Sherlock. “See you in a few hours.”

Sherlock shook his head as John made his way to the door. He had the feeling John would, at least, give them plenty of time to be alone at Baker Street when they could, though he had the feeling there would be sufficient teasing, too. He wasn’t sure he was going to enjoy that. After a moment he made his way to the loo, hearing the shower running. He opened the door and found it unlocked. “Do you want company?” he asked once he opened the door.

“Well, I suppose you joining me in the shower could be interesting,” Molly said as she stuck her head around the shower curtain to look at him, a smile on her face. “But somehow I don’t think you’re in the mood.”

“I’m sorry,” he said with a nod.

“Well, sit on the toilet and keep me company,” she said. “Tell me what you learned.”

“Nothing,” he said, coming into the small room. “Absolutely nothing. Their memories were wiped.”

“Pity,” she said. “I learned something, though.”

Sherlock perked up. “Oh?”

“Well, Merlin left the weaponry here. I don’t know if that was on purpose or by accident, but I recognized one of the daggers. I had gone to a museum exhibition in London last week at one of the art museums, and they had a weaponry exhibit. That dagger has a twin on display. It was a set made specifically for Lord Byron Roberts of Hampshire.”

Sherlock licked his lips. “Are you absolutely sure?”

She stuck her head out. “There’s a picture of it on display, but I popped in just to double check.”

“Molly, I could kiss you,” he said.

“You should,” she said with a smile. “I know I would enjoy it.”

He was still for a moment, then stood up and let his hands move to the buttons of his shirt. Suddenly, he was rather in the mood for a hot shower and some exquisite company to go with it. The widening grin on Molly’s face before she ducked back into the shower said she, too, would enjoy the same as well.

There were worse ways to spend an hour...


	13. Chapter 13

Eventually, they joined John downstairs and made their way to the pub. John couldn’t hide his injuries, but it appeared their fight had been glimpsed by one or two villagers and things were different. People were offering to buy John a drink or pay for their dinner. The change in attitude seemed strange to Sherlock; earlier in the day they had been rather ignored or looked at with disdain.

“Do you think there’s been some other hold over the village?” Sherlock asked Molly as John got up to go to the bar, ostensibly to talk to the villagers but also to enjoy a bit of the attention, Sherlock imagined.

“It could be,” Molly said. “I mean, if there’s a geas on the forest and the creatures in it, why couldn’t there be one on the village itself? Treat all strangers with disdain, spy on everyone...”

“Or be spied upon,” a voice said from the left. Sherlock and Molly turned and saw an old man standing there. “Couldn’t help overhearing your conversation. Mind if I join you?”

Sherlock nodded to John’s vacant seat. “Would you like a drink?” he asked. “Or a meal?”

“A nice meal would be good,” the man said with a nod. “Cottage pie sounds especially nice.”

“I can get you some,” Molly said with a smile, pushing back her chair and heading towards the bar herself.

The man watched her and then turned to look at Sherlock. “Whatever your friend did, he’s the village’s hero tonight,” the man said with a grin. “Those three bastards had a hold on this place that no one could shake. And then, it was lifted. Just...gone.” He tilted his head. “It has to do with the spider queen, doesn’t it?”

“What do you know about that?” Sherlock asked.

“My family’s been here since the forest just appeared,” he said. “Never in a position of power, but we watched. Passed down stories. There’s magic afoot, and it’s nasty magic on the side of those three bastards.” He waved his hand and a rose appeared. “I never was more powerful than doing what amounted to parlour tricks. I think your lady will enjoy that.”

Sherlock nodded. He was still going to be careful what he said to the man, but it was interesting meeting another magic practitioner. He picked up the rose and smelled it. Nothing seemed amiss, and so he set it near Molly’s plate. “What happened to the village?” he asked.

“Lord Roberts family has been involved in the village affairs for at least two hundred years,” the man said. “For the most part, they’ve been good to the village. When there have been problems, someone would talk to the lord or lady in charge of the manor out by the forest and a few days later, it was taken care of. But then _this_ lord took over about...” The man scratched his chin. “Seven years ago, and there was something done to the village. The spiders turned spy, and not of their own free will. People who angered the Lord would disappear. And the forest got smaller. Not on our side, but the side abutting the other villages. But the villagers couldn’t go in. There was a block of some sort.”

“But you could,” Sherlock said.

The man chuckled. “You really are the greatest mind of your age,” he said. “Yes, I could. Not all the way to the heart of the forest, but far enough in to poach. The game’s been less, though. There should be more, even with the spiders and their appetite. But it barely supports me and mine these days.”

“Could you guide me to the heart of the forest?” Sherlock asked.

“Is it safe enough?” the man asked.

Sherlock nodded. “I can keep you safe.”

“What boon do you want in exchange?” the man asked.

Sherlock thought for a moment. “Keep me informed of anything that changes, even after I leave.”

“Done,” the man said. Molly came back then with a plate and the man took it with a smile. “I’ll leave you two in peace, but when you want to make that trip, let me know.”

Sherlock nodded. “What’s your name?”

“McGrath,” he said. “Colin McGrath.”

“I’ll find you when I need you,” Sherlock said. The man stood up and left them alone, and Sherlock watched as Molly picked up the rose and sniffed it. He saw she had a smile on her face and he grinned at her. “What is it?”

“He isn’t all he seems,” she said.

Sherlock frowned at that. “Then why are you smiling?” he asked.

“Sherlock, Colin McGrath?” she said. “Colin Morgan and Katie McGrath were actors in the Merlin series. And...couldn’t you feel the power radiating from him?”

“Is he working against us? Leading us into a trap?” Sherlock asked.

“He’s fae,” Molly said. “And for some reason, they want this problem taken care of.”

He stared at her. “How do you know?”

“I can’t explain it,” she said. “But he’s different. Not human. I just...feel he’s trustworthy and powerful.”

Sherlock nodded slowly. “So we can trust him?”

“Yes,” she said. “We can trust him.” She set the rose down and picked up her fork. “So when are we going into the forest?”

“You aren’t,” he said.

“Oh, if you think I’m going to let you go into that forest without me you are sadly mistaken,” she said. “John can sit around at the inn but you _need_ me,” she said, pointing her forkful of food at him. “If you think our relationship taking the turn it did means you sideline me when you _know_ I can keep myself safe now and help you at the same time, then I’ll move back to my home and invest in high-quality sex toys instead of relying on you.”

Sherlock’s eyes widened at the statement, and he watched her eat as soon as she was done making the statement. He didn’t doubt for a _second_ she would be true to her word if he tried to push her into the background to keep her safe. He had to make sure he didn’t underestimate her, think her less. She was, in many ways, almost an equal, and despite their relationship getting physical he needed to remember that. She complimented him in many ways.

 _It’s not because you shagged,_ a voice in his head said. _You love her and you don’t want to lose her. You’ll end up pushing her away if you aren’t careful._

The statement he had wanted to deny struck him to the core, and he looked at his plate. He’d almost lost her already, and that had been an experience he didn’t want to revisit a third time. There were times this new turn in his life was frightening beyond belief, and he regretted bringing her into it even today, even when she showed her own magic was strong and powerful. But she was right. Whenever he went in the forest, he knew he needed her by his side.

He just hoped nothing happened to either of them.


	14. Chapter 14

John decided to stay in the pub after Sherlock and Molly were finished with their dinner. Mycroft had come into the pub looking for them, saying he had information that they might need, and the three of them left to go back to the Inn, this time going up to Mycroft and Andrea’s room. It was just slightly larger than theirs and had a desk, and when they arrived Andrea was busy at the desk, going through a stack of papers. “You have your brother?” she asked without looking up.

“Yes,” Mycroft said. “Molly too.”

“Good,” she said. Andrea did not look as chic as she normally did; her hair was up in a bun on top of her head and there were two pens crisscrossed through it, and Sherlock could see she was in a camisole top and yoga pants. When she turned to look at the three of them he saw she was wearing glasses as well. She gave Sherlock a look when she saw him staring.”If you truly believe I’m dressed the way I am when I gather your friends all the time, you have not spent _nearly_ enough time living with Dr. Hooper.”

“No, it’s just I like this look better,” Sherlock said with a grin. 

“Well, thankfully, so does my husband,” she said, her cross look softening. “When I stay at his home things like this are half my wardrobe.”

“You don’t live together?” Molly asked.

“Secret marriage,” Mycroft said. “We can spend some evenings together when we have a work related reason, but it’s not as often as we would like.”

“One day, when he leaves government and I’m ‘put out to pasture,’ perhaps,” Andrea said with a slight shrug. “But that doesn’t look as though it will be anytime soon.” She gestured towards the paperwork. “And things like this complicate the timeline of how long we have to wait.”

“What is all that?” Sherlock asked.

“Well, if I’m reading it correctly, a very complicated system of favours coming out of nowhere and an extremely long run of favorable luck,” Andrea said. “I’m assuming you’ve already figured out it’s Lord Roberts family involved.” Both Sherlock and Molly nodded. “His family originally came from Farnham and moved through the forest to the other side and settled in Hampshire in the 1700s. They were farmers then, and somehow they always had the best crops, harvested at the right time, and sold for the most money. Eventually one of his ancestors bought his way into the aristocracy, and in the 1800s he was given a title and more land.”

“The land, however, included a large swath of the forest, didn’t it?” Sherlock asked.

Andrea nodded. “His family never went and tore up the trees or did anything with the woods. In fact, when they were given more land for exceptional service to the crown, they asked for it specifically in the forest.” She picked up a sheaf of papers. “Now, they were given the land on the promise from his family that they would never try to commercialize it. It was turned into the forest as we know it now. Most of his ancestors have been content to protect the wood, and they seem to have benefited from it.”

“Until recently,” Mycroft said, stepping into the conversation. “Seven years ago, the interior of the forest appeared to thin. The animals inside started thinning out as well. And Lord Robert’s luck took an immediate downturn at approximately the same time. Until a year ago, when he got enough clout to push the rezoning of the villages through the government until it was assigned to my predecessor.”

“Who didn’t want to rezone,” Andrea continued. “Not before he came to the villages, and not while he was here. Then he disappeared, his PA was considered to have had a mental break, and voila. Mycroft Holmes, a person in the government known for making the best of tough situations and lucrative deals for Her Majesty, gets picked. So the luck had, once again, taken a turn for the worse. Hence the drugging, we assume.”

Sherlock began to pace. “One of the fae visited during supper. He offered his help and Molly said he’s trustworthy. I believe her. I think they gifted his family with favours so long as the forest stayed intact and off limits. Now that he’s running contrary to those wishes, his luck has turned. Until he got the book, which I imagine would have been approximately a year ago.” He paused. “Does he know ancient Greek?”

Mycroft nodded. “Classical literature was something he studied in university. He bored many of my colleagues with quoting Greek tragedies in actual Greek.”

“That explains how he could read the book,” Sherlock said. He caught Mycroft’s confused look. “The spider creature whose offspring we have to assume ate your predecessor is Arachne, from Greek mythology. There is a book that was created to control her and her ilk after they were granted powers by a god or goddess. Lord Roberts has the book and is using it to control them to his bidding. He must know other magic as well, and have knowledge of herbal magic and magical poisons.”

“How are you planning on stopping him?” Andrea asked.

“Find the book, destroy it and free the spider creatures. I have a copy of the book stored in my mind palace, but so long as he has the original...”

“Leave that to me,” Mycroft said quietly. “He’s invited me to dine with him tomorrow.”

“Don’t you dare,” Andrea said, her eyes wide. “You’ve had magic used on you, and you have no idea what else there is he’s going to do to you. Your brother just mentioned magical poisons.” She stood up and rounded o Mycroft. “I’m not about to lose you.”

“He doesn’t have to,” Molly said. Everyone turned to look at her. “Didn’t Merlin use a spell when the Halloween party was happening to impersonate Sally’s boyfriend at the time?”

Sherlock nodded. “Yes.”

“Then learn the spell, cast it on yourself and pretend to be Mycroft. If Andrea’s been invited, I can go as her. We can arrange to get out and meet the fae we met tonight as soon as we have it, go into the heart of the forest and give the book to Arachne, or destroy it if it makes things better for the creatures. Then Lord Roberts is ruined and the spider creatures will be free and no longer able to be controlled.”

“It makes sense,” Mycroft said slowly. “Andrea and I can simply stay here, or in your or John’s room.”

Sherlock wanted to object to the idea of Molly putting herself in danger, but she was right. It was the best plan. “Very well,” Sherlock said. “I’ll let our fae visitor know I know the truth and we’ll impersonate you both tomorrow night.” He looked over at all of them and saw nods of agreement. This was not the plan he _wanted_ , but it was the best plan, he realized. He would have to make it work without letting there be a death in the mix.

Or at least a death he couldn’t live with.


	15. Chapter 15

The spell had been incredibly easy to learn; once Merlin was able to be contacted and informed of the plan he began teaching both Sherlock and Molly the spell, having them copy the looks of various people to make sure they knew it. It was actually an almost complete camouflaging spell, in that not only was the physical appearance copied but the height, body shape and voice as well, so long as the caster knew what the person sounded like. It was easy for Sherlock and Molly to impersonate Mycroft and Andrea, and once they were satisfied Sherlock and Molly would pass as them it was simply time to wait until they could leave the Inn.

Sherlock and Molly didn’t leave to go out into the village before the dinner, though they sent John out to monitor things and make sure Lord Roberts didn’t cause any last minute trouble. Molly decided to try and take a nap and Sherlock laid on the bed next to her, holding her close. He worried that things could go wrong again, as they had a tendency to do. He had more power at his disposal than she did, he had more training than she did, his specialty was bending magic to his will by crafting spells off the top of his head while she was more proficient in object-centered magic...there was so much imbalance between them, but he knew to leave her behind would be the worst decision he could make. She centered him, she was able to help him, she was his partner just as much as John was, just in different way.

He would have to reconcile the fear he felt when they did something dangerous to the knowledge that while she might have less power she was just as proficient in using what she could to its full advantage.

When it was time for them to get ready he woke her up or at least attempted to. Her response was to burrow in closer to him and sleepily press a kiss to his neck. “Five more minutes?” she asked.

“Unfortunately time is not on our side,” he said, his tone amused. He’d give more than he could to have five more minutes, but they needed to go to Mycroft and Andrea’s room and model the clothing they would have worn to the dinner and then go to Lord Roberts manor house. “But when we get back you can sleep as long as you want.”

“Mmm, okay,” she said, pulling away and stretching. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked at him, reaching over to touch his face gently. “We’ll be fine, you know.”

“We haven’t always,” he said.

“We usually don’t have help,” she replied. “We’ll have the fae with us in the forest, and Merlin said he would be nearby at the manor house.”

“I still worry,” he said, running a hand along her waist.

“I know,” she said softly with a nod. She leaned in and kissed him, being careful not to let them get carried away. He kissed her back until she pulled away again to get out of the bed. He wished he had her confidence, but the spectre of Death on the stag rankled at him. If all went according to plan, there would only be a few people in the forest, and he was sure the only one who could die would be Molly. That was not the outcome he wanted.

Slowly they both got themselves to the point where they were ready to go to his brother’s room. The switching of looks didn’t take long, and they left again not too much later as Mycroft and Andrea. Mycroft had told him Andrea usually drove when things like this occurred, and Molly had been given the keys to the car that Mycroft and Andrea were using. They made their way downstairs, and Sherlock caught the eye of their fae friend in the dining room. The fae nodded, and Sherlock nodded back before he and Molly left the inn.

Merlin had assured them this magic was imperceptible and only reversible by them, but it was a shock when they entered the grounds of the manor and he realized Molly had gone back to looking like herself. “Bloody hell,” she muttered when she realized the same thing.

“I want to have a talk with Merlin,” Sherlock said. He reached out to his mentor but there was nothing. There was no reason for Molly to drive back out of the grounds so he could contact Merlin, either, so he put a hand on her thigh. “Slow down a bit.”

“You can’t reach him?” she asked. He nodded. “In my handbag. I brought the dagger.”

“What?” he asked.

“Oh, I got rid of the poison,” she said, lifting a hand off the steering wheel and waving it. “it’s not that hard when he’s so _obvious_ as to which one he used. I doused it in the antidote. It’s harmless. But we have a reason for being here. After all, everyone deserves to get their property back.”

“What if we can’t teleport out?” he asked.

“I have a spell for that in my book,” she said. “Open it up and it should pop right up. It nullifies all the magic in an area for a time. We’ll cancel out his magic, dash to the car, drive back off the grounds, and then do the spell.”

“How do you know it won’t cancel our magic?” he asked.

“I don’t, but I’m sure you can adapt it,” she replied, turning to give him an encouraging look. Sherlock looked at _her_ with a look of admiration. She had assumed something like this might happen while he’d chosen to believe Merlin that they’d be fine. He went into her handbag, careful not to touch the dagger, and pulled out her book. He opened it to the first page and the spell she mentioned appeared on it, glowing white at first but soon fading into a black script. He studied the spell, memorizing it with what he hoped would be enough of an adjustment, and then closed the book and put it away as they approached the manor house.

It had certainly seen better days, he realized. With the string of bad luck hitting him, it seemed to affect the property as well. It looked run down and in sore need of repair. Whoever Lord Roberts had crossed had certainly taken their revenge in many senses. Molly parked the car and then got out, and Sherlock followed. She seemed more confident than he was, to be honest, and he let her take the lead. She went to the manor door and knocked, waiting, with him by her side. 

The door opened and a man stood there with greying hair on his head and in his neatly trimmed beard, the only sign of age on him. That wasn’t to say he appeared unaffected by what had been going on; there were dark circles under his eyes and a scowl on his face. “I should have known your brother wouldn’t come,” he said.

“Lord Roberts, I presume?” Sherlock asked, looking at Molly.

She nodded. “Unfortunately.”

His scowl deepened. “I’m a Lord,” he said, glaring at Molly. “I deserve respect.”

“I only respect those who don’t disrespect the people I care about,” Molly said, glaring right back. Lord Roberts blinked and then watched as she pulled out the dagger from her handbag. “Oh, don’t worry, I took your filthy poison off. But I think I’ll keep this out for a bit.”

“You’re an impertinent bitch,” he said. Molly’s eyes widened and she lifted the dagger up. He attempted to wave his hand and cast a spell, but nothing happened. “What…?”

“Frankly, you need a better teacher,” Molly said. She handed the dagger to Sherlock and then reached into her bag again. Before Lord Roberts could react she tossed a handful of powder in his face that had been enclosed in a handkerchief and his eyes fluttered closed as he passed out on the floor. “We have twenty minutes unless someone interferes,” she said.

Sherlock looked at her. “What is that?”

“Merlin’s sleeping powder,” she said, pulling out. “Studying the books _does_ do good. I made some up before I brought yesterday’s lunch, just in case we needed it.” She nodded into the manor. “Let’s find the book and get the hell out of here.”

Sherlock nodded and held the dagger in his dominant hand as they pushed inside. He felt a pull that he couldn’t explain and simply followed it. The pull took them to a two-floor library, but the book they needed was right out in the open. “This seems too easy,” he murmured as they went up to the book.

Molly looked over at him. “It does, doesn’t it?” She thought for a moment, and then Sherlock heard her speak under his breath. A look of satisfaction crossed her face as the book started to glow red. “He’s enchanted it.”

“Do you know how to unenchant it?” Sherlock asked.

She shook her head. “I can detect when things have been tampered with with that spell, but I can’t reverse it.”

Sherlock handed her back the dagger and began to look at the book with the special sight he used when casting complicated spells. He could see the threads of magic Lord Roberts had overlaid on the book, and he began to pick at them. There was resistance, but surprisingly not much. The book _wanted_ to be free, it seemed, and the threads of magic protecting the actual book seemed to help unravel what he thought it considered “bad magic” as soon as he started really pulling at them. He was almost done when the room began to shake. 

“Is that you?” Molly asked.

“No, and it’s not the book’s natural magic,” he said. Just a few more strings…

The doors to the library flew in and he heard Molly gasp. “He was fae!” she said.

“The same…?” Sherlock asked, not pulling his full attention away from the book.

“No,” she said. 

The spell enchanting the book slid away at that point and Sherlock grabbed the book with one hand and Molly’s arm with the other, casting the spell to teleport. Surprisingly, it worked, and they found themselves next to the fae they _did_ trust at the outskirts of the forest. “We’re probably being followed,” Sherlock said.

“The forest is still under the geas,” the fae said. “But I can call for help.”

“Lord Roberts was replaced by fae,” Molly said as the three of them ran into the forest.

“He was now, was he?” the fae said, stopping suddenly. Molly crashed into him, almost stabbing him with the dagger. “Careful.”

“Sorry,” she replied.

The fae looked to the side as the forest began to darken. A path suddenly lit up, though it glowed weakly. “Follow that,” he said. “I’ll take care of our intruder.”

Sherlock nodded and said nothing, grabbing Molly’s free hand again and pulling her towards the path. He knew his legs were longer and he could run more quickly than he was, but he slowed his pace so she could keep up. Dimly behind them, there were horrible sounds of fighting, but he tried his best to ignore them. The forest grew darker the further in they traveled until they burst into an open space near the mouth of a large cave. The cave did not look natural, instead looking as though it had been woven from brown spider webs and hardened in place. 

There, in the center of the opening, was a female spider creature who was bigger than the others, and he knew instantly that was Arachne. He held forward the book. “I’m returning this to you, Arachne,” he said.

“Destroy it,” the female voice he had heard in the dream said. “Use the dagger.” Sherlock dropped the book on the ground and then Molly handed him the dagger. He squatted down and then stabbed the dagger into the center of the book. There was an unearthly scream from the forest, from behind them and the path they had traveled, and then the darkness seemed to recede. Sherlock looked up and saw stars poking through the thick grove of trees and the moon shining on the cave. The human-like face of Arachne was smiling at him. “You are not Merlin’s heir in all ways.”

“He is willing to learn, as am I,” Sherlock said, standing up again.

“But your first instinct is to save. His...not always.” She nodded to the book. “Dispose of that in magical fire.”

Sherlock nodded and cast the same spell he had used to get rid of the bugs in Molly’s home what seemed like ages ago. Soon the book was encased in fire, glowing an icy blue as it was consumed, and then there was nothing left but ash. “Done,” he said.

“Our captor is still alive,” she said. “I demand retribution.” 

Sherlock watched as the actual Lord Byron appeared in the open field, looking terrified. He stepped forward towards the man. “Not death,” Sherlock said.

“No?” Arachne asked.

“Not death,” Sherlock replied. He looked up. “He collaborated with fae to destroy this forest for his own gain. The fae who showed us the path should have a say as well.”

“You speak truly,” a voice was heard saying from behind them. The fae they had known as Colin was gone mostly, all except the eyes. This fae was clothed in regal attire, with long shining blonde hair that glowed in the moonlight, and he held a fae who looked similar, though with red hair, by the back of his tunic. “He attempted to use dark magic from one of our less loyal brethren. I will offer a trade. You may have the fae to do with what you will, spider woman, and we will take the human.”

Arachne nodded. “Fair enough. Do you need your kin to remain alive?”

“Let him feed your children,” the fae said, pushing the defeated foe forward.

“Please...” the red-haired fae said before the spiders began to spit silk around him.

“You have betrayed the pact made with the fore-bearers of this forest and you have allowed a human to enslave the spider woman and her kin,” the regal fae said coldly. “You are at their mercy.” Soon the red-haired fae was wrapped in spider silk and being carried off to the cave. Sherlock heard movement to the side and saw Death on his stag. He was not the only one, though, and the fae turned to the hooded figure. “Your price is paid,” he said before nodding his head. Death nodded back, and then quietly he rode back into the forest, the darkness closing around him.

“I and mine will feast on fae blood, tainted though it is,” Arachne said.

“And no more humans?” Sherlock asked.

Arachne turned to the fae, who nodded. “Our food will return,” she said. “We will leave the villages of man alone.” With that, she turned and made her way into the cave.

“You do Merlin good credit, the both of you,” the fae said. “You’ve had a boon from us before, Sherlock Holmes. For restoring the forest to those who will protect it, you have earned another one.” He nodded to Molly. “You as well, Molly Hooper.”

“Do we need to use these boons now?” Molly asked.

The fae shook his head. “No, young miss. You may keep them until you have need of them.”

“Thank you,” Sherlock said, bowing at the waist. Molly curtsied as well. Then he pointed to Lord Roberts. “What will be done with him?”

“He will get his proper punishment in our realm,” the fae said. “Your brother will protect the forest, will he not?”

“Yes,” Sherlock said.

“Then he may have a boon as well, when all is said and done and the laws of man recognize the laws of fae.” Other fae came to them then, binding Lord Roberts. “Pass that along, Sherlock Holmes.”

“I will,” Sherlock said. After a moment, the fae king led his subjects and their prisoner back down the path, and when they were gone from view Sherlock turned to Molly. “Back to the inn?”

She nodded. “Yes,” she said. Sherlock put an arm around her shoulders and cast the teleportation spell, having them land in Mycroft and Andrea’s room. Both of them were lying in bed, asleep. “We can tell them later.”

“Yes,” he said with a nod, his voice quiet. He removed his arm from around her shoulders and reached for her hand. Once they got to the door he opened it and they made their way back to their room. “It seems almost...anticlimactic.”

“You destroyed the book and freed everyone,” she said. “And we have boons. That’s something, isn’t it?”

“I suppose,” Sherlock said. He stopped just outside their door and used his other hand to caress her face. “I’m just thankful you weren’t hurt.”

“I’m thankful you weren’t either,” she said, reaching forward to wrap her arms around his waist. He let go of her face and held her close. He would rather take an anticlimactic fight where the people who deserved punishment got their just deserts than anything else, but he wondered if all would be well. He would have to wait and see, he supposed.


	16. Chapter 16

Sherlock, Molly and John left the village the next morning, leaving Mycroft and Andrea to deal with the fallout of Lord Roberts disappearance in the midst of the talks after Sherlock had informed them of what had happened in the forest and the role Mycroft was tasked with in these talks. It was three days later when his brother paid him a visit. The first thing Sherlock noticed is that he was wearing his wedding band on his finger and not on the chain around his neck. He and Mycroft settled in for tea, facing each other in the chairs, and then Sherlock nodded to his left hand. “Not keeping it a secret anymore?”

Mycroft nodded slowly. “I know it was not Andrea or I at the manor or in the forest, but when you relayed the story of what happened we talked long into the night,” he said, picking up his cup and saucer. “I didn’t know much about what had happened to you or Molly before, but the fact you are bonded meant something had to have happened. Something big. And if it could happen to the two of you it could easily happen to any of us who are around you. We could much more easily lose one another now.” 

Sherlock nodded slowly. “There is truth to that,” he said.

“You can’t change this, can you?” Mycroft asked. “You can’t get rid of your immortality by yourself.” Sherlock tilted his head. “We may have been visited by Merlin while you were in the forest, to make sure nothing was done to us.”

“Ah,” Sherlock said with a nod. “To answer your question, no. Unless I can figure out how to reverse the curse that was cast on me, which we don’t know the specifics of, I will outlive all of you. Molly may live longer than the rest of you, but even she will die, eventually. Or sooner, if something happens.”

“Could something happen?” Mycroft asked curiously.

“She wants to be by my side to help,” Sherlock said quietly. “My life is infinitely more dangerous now than it was before. She’s come close to death twice already, once because of me. But she won’t leave me. She could still do that, or turn against me if fate wants a replay of events that have happened between her ancestors and ours for years, but for now, she’ll go into danger with me, and I could lose her.”

“And I could lose Andrea if there is a situation where we’re put in danger. Or she could lose me. So we decided not to hide our relationship anymore.” He paused. “Not that we would be able to much longer. Andrea is pregnant.”

“I had a feeling there was a secondary reason,” Sherlock said. “Congratulations.”

Mycroft nodded. “Is there a chance our child could be like you? Like Sherrinford?”

“There’s always a chance,” Sherlock said. “Merlin has said that most families only have one magic user per generation, if they have any, and we have two.”

“Have?” Mycroft asked, furrowing his brow.

“I have the knowledge of what was in the book due to Sherrinford,” Sherlock said. “Somehow he helped me. So while he may not be physically here, he _is_ alive.”

Mycroft nodded. “There is so much between the three of us that should be talked about,” he said. “I...regret the way things happened when we were children.”

“Quite a bit of that had to do with our parents,” Sherlock pointed out. “They aren’t exactly banging down doors to be involved in our lives.”

“Then we should be involved in each other's lives,” Mycroft said. “Though differently than we have before. I do not want to raise my child the way I was raised, or the way I helped to raise you.”

“That’s a good start right there,” Sherlock said. “But I can help, whether your child is magically inclined or not.”

“Thank you,” Mycroft said. The two men lapsed into silence for a time before the conversation switched to other things, and by the time Mycroft left Sherlock felt that perhaps some of the hurts between them had been healed more. If nothing else, this was a good start to having a better familial relationship with Mycroft and his family.

His family...Sherlock wondered if he’d get that chance, or if he would be like Merlin, watching generation upon generation of his family grow and connecting very little with them. Sherlock had the feeling he was an exception to Merlin in multiple ways they didn’t even discuss, but he wasn’t sure he could go through that himself. He wasn’t sure he would survive losing his friends, his family, or Molly and having to exist for who knew how long.

He was still sitting in his chair thinking about things when Molly returned home from Barts, and he only realized she was home when she dropped into his lap and began to snuggle into him. He shifted and put his arms around her, kissing her deeply. “If I get welcomed home like this I may take every available shift,” she said with a smile when he pulled away.

“I’ve had a lot on my mind,” Sherlock said, resting his forehead against hers. “I just want to forget for a while.”

“I can help with that,” she said, kissing him again. Soon she was shifting her position and he was working on lifting her jumper up and he knew for at least a little while, he would forget the heavy thoughts that were in his head.

But only for a little while.


End file.
